


Fortune Favored by the Bold

by Chrysanthos



Series: Dumb Three Houses Crack [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-11-02 07:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysanthos/pseuds/Chrysanthos
Summary: A slip of the tongue reveals a pressing secret that flips Ignatz Victor's life upside-down.





	Fortune Favored by the Bold

Claude knocked at Raphael's door. Some rustling, and then some cursing. Claude blinked - wasn't that _Ignatz's_ voice? Claude grinned and kept knocking.

"For the _last time_, Leonie, I'm _not_ going to draw Captain Jeralt's feet for you-" Ignatz began ranting as he threw open the door, which quickly died out as he realized who, exactly, he was yelling at. "Oh. H-Hello, Claude."

"Hey, Ig," Claude greeted the much smaller boy, "What're you doing in here? Isn't this Raphael's room?"

"It- It is," Ignatz flushed, "But I help him work out sometimes."

"Yeah!" Raphael cheerfully called from within the room, "He sits on my back while I do push-ups, and he spots me while I do curl-ups!"

"Huh, interesting," Claude remarked, filing that away as a neat fact about his classmates' relationships, "Now, what was that about Captain Jeralt's feet?"

Ignatz grew pale. Claude's grin could only grow.

* * *

At the sound of knocking, Ignatz looked up from his recent commission of Captain Jeralt's feet. _Thank the goddess,_ he thought, _A distraction._ Thinking it could only be Raphael, as the appointed time had likely drawn near, he sprung up and went to answer the door.

"Coming, Raphael!" Ignatz called cheerfully, and then opened the door. "He- oh."

"Yes, it is I," Lorenz said.

"Sorry, Lorenz, did you need something?" Ignatz asked, "I was just getting ready to meet Raphael for our- well, _his_ training session." Ignatz was likely going to be deadlifted by the larger boy again. He didn't mind it - it was kind of nice to be lifted like that.

"Do not worry, Ignatz," Lorenz assured him, "This will not take long at all. Rather, I have heard of your work from Leonie, and I was wondering if I could possibly commission you for a work of a similar subject matter."

Ignatz and Lorenz stared at each other.

"Lorenz," Ignatz said slowly, "I am going to close this door. You are going to walk away. I am going to get dressed for my session with Raphael. We will both forget that this conversation about you commissioning me for feet pictures ever happened. Am I clear?" Without waiting for an answer, Ignatz shut his door.

* * *

Ignatz should have stayed in his room instead of going to the chapel for references of Saint Macuil.

Instead, here he was, staring up at Sylvain, who had cornered Ignatz and cut off his escape with an arm against the wall.

Somehow, despite the feeling of being trapped, it felt... almost romantic. Hell, Ignatz could imagine Saint Macuil in Sylvain's place, and now he had an entire painting envisioned just like that. Saint Macuil and a young squire, his muscles providing a strong yet comforting cage-

"So," Sylvain drawled, interrupting Ignatz's reverie. "Ignatz."

Ignatz started, although honestly, who else would he be addressing. "Y-Yes, Sylvain?" He stammered, the previous envisioning of St. Macuil still hot on his mind.

"I have... Something to ask of you," Sylvain's expression didn't change, but there was something in the air that gave Ignatz pause, as if there was a romantic edge to it.

"Oh?" Ignatz breathed, "Wh-What is it?" Perhaps Sylvain was going to solicit a kiss, perhaps a date? The-

"Could you..." Sylvain leaned in, breath hot on Ignatz's face. Ignatz flushed, was Sylvain going t- "Draw me a picture of Jeralt's feet?"

Ignatz made a snap decision. 

* * *

Manuela tsked. "How on earth did Sylvain fall unconscious?"

"Fell down the stairs," Ignatz huffily replied.

* * *

"Oi, kid."

Ignatz knew who it was. He didn't have to turn around. In fact, he probably could have made a break for it, but that ran the risk of even more suspicious. He sighed, and turned around. "Hello, Sir Jeralt." Ignatz greeted the much larger man as cheerfully as he could. Somehow, he reminded Ignatz of Saint Indech, but that was neither here nor there.

"Hey, kid. Ignatz, right?" Jeralt asked, "I remember the Victors. Pretty standard noble snobbery, but at least they raised a nice, artsy kid like you."

Ignatz blinked. "Th-Thank you, sir-"

"And speaking of art," Jeralt leaned in, and Ignatz never felt more scared (and slightly... aroused?) in his life. "What's this I hear about you drawing pictures of my feet?"

Ignatz paled.

Unlike with Sylvain, he couldn't beat the asker into unconsciousness. This was _Jeralt Reus Eisner_, the fucking _Blade Breaker_. Ignatz remembered hearing a story about Jeralt shattering an assassin's sword by _biting it mid-swing_. Ignatz felt like he was going to hyperventilate.

"Easy there, kid," Jeralt grinned, but there was a weird sort of hunger behind it...? Ignatz felt like he was going to die. "I'll forget about your weird little escapades - after all, the old king of Farghus commissioned a painting of my feet just before he died - but I have something to ask in return."

"They- They're not for me-" Ignatz began to weakly protest.

"Course they aren't," Jeralt chuckled, "But, again, I'll look the other way... _If_ you draw me Seteth's feet."

Ignatz went silent altogether as a path of action became known to him.

* * *

Raphael knocked on Ignatz's door. He blinked as he heard the smaller boy curse, as well as the telltale sound of coins clanking against each other, before the door swung open.

"Wh- Oh, hey Raphael!" Ignatz greeted Raphael, kicking a large cloth sack that suspiciously jingled behind the door, "Is it time for your workout already? Sorry, let me get-"

"What's with the money?" Raphael interrupted Ignatz.

Ignatz looked to where he had just kicked the sack, then pulled Raphael into his room and hastily locked the door. Raphael barely noticed - he was staring wide-eyed at the piles of money Ignatz had accrued.

"Dude!" Raphael gaped, "Where'd you get all this money?"

"Commissions," Ignatz replied, sounding tired.

"For art?" Raphael asked, "That's great, man! It's about time people recognized how good you are-"

"It's art, all right," Ignatz said bitterly, "But it's all money I made drawing Captain Jeralt's feet."

"...Leonie doesn't have this much money."

"People other than Leonie have been paying me to draw Captain Jeralt's feet, and the prices have gotten out of hand." Ignatz picked up a solid gold ingot. "You see this? I got this for a 6x6 charcoal drawing."

Raphael blinked, and unconsciously reached out to grab it.

"You can keep it, I don't want it," Ignatz sighed and handed the gold to Raphael. "Just- I can't just keep making money off of Captain Jeralt and Seteth's feet."

"Seteth's feet?" Raphael wondered, but then he was struck with an idea. "Wait, I have an idea. What if... You sold something else?"

Ignatz looked unsure, but as Raphael explained himself, Ignatz had at least leaped into Raphael's arms in thanks.

* * *

Byleth handed Ignatz 500G. "Thank you, Ignatz," They said in their deadpan way.

"No problem!" Ignatz looked oddly nervous, "Enjoy the bath waters of Seteth!"

Byleth nodded, and walked briskly off. Near the gardens, they bumped into their father, also carrying a glass phial with a label of Seteth's face.

"Byleth," Jeralt nodded.

"Father," Byleth nodded.

**Author's Note:**

> you've heard of jeralt feet pics, get ready for seteth bath water


End file.
